


Peaceweavers

by thelittlestbird



Category: Brave (2012)
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, Gen, Misses Clause Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 02:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13045053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestbird/pseuds/thelittlestbird
Summary: Elinor didn't want to be a princess either, and had to find her own way to be brave.





	Peaceweavers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Missy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/gifts).



Castle Mackintosh was perched high on a cliff overlooking the North Sea. It was circled by thick stone walls and a heavy metal portcullis that took three men to raise.

That meant that it was safe.

In all of the battles that had raged across the land since the early days of Elinor’s childhood, none of them ever even came close to threatening Castle Mackintosh, and Elinor knew that that made her lucky. 

She could tell that the war was going badly. Her parents never said it in so many words, but she could tell from the way they looked at her, and the way her father hugged her every time he came home from one of the war’s many many battles. Every time her father came home he looked older, wearier, more ragged. The last time, he’d had a bandage on his arm.

And every day, her mother Lady Una received more guests. Other ladies who sewed and wove and talked; lords who wore so many swords and daggers that it took them whole minutes to disarm before entering the Great Hall, where no weapons were permitted.

Sometimes, when Elinor’s father was off fighting, Elinor was allowed to sit in the Great Hall with Lady Una. She watched her mother do justice for the people of Clan Mackintosh; listened to the debates among the nobles; learned to see how her mother skillfully steered the conversations so that the other lords and ladies would come to agree with what Una had asked them to do.

But Elinor never wanted to make a speech of her own. It frightened her to have people looking at her, and she never knew what to say. So, most days, while her mother or father held court, she stayed in her room sewing, or practicing the harp. 

That was where she was today, working on her tapestry. The steady motion of her needle slipping through thread always soothed her: it helped her feel calmer on the days when she felt trapped by worry for her father, or for the land itself. Stitch by stitch she built the picture, setting each small piece in its place next to the one before. Everything had its place; everything fit.

“Still working on Queen Catriona?” Lady Una had opened the door so softly that Elinor had hardly heard it. She looked up to smile at her mother over her shoulder as Una came to stand behind her.

“I am,” Elinor agreed with a smile. “I’m nearly done with her crown.”

“Queen Catriona is a good person to think about,” Una mused. She reached out a careful finger to trace around the edge of the embroidered queen’s shoulder. “She united the clans too, you know. You remember the story, don’t you, love?”

Elinor nodded. “Of course! She journeyed from one end of the land to the other, visiting every castle along the way, and she wouldn’t leave until they agreed to make peace amongst themselves. ‘We’ll never beat the Romans unless we stop trying to beat each other,’ she said.” Una had told Elinor the story more times than she could count, and by now, Elinor remembered every word. “She had to hide from the Roman legions herself when she was traveling. Twice! But she knew the way across the River Tordain, and knew about the caves, too. She could stay hidden until they passed.”

Una’s smile rose in warm approval. “Exactly.” Una traced around the edge of Catriona’s hair, then pulled her hand back to place it lightly on her daughter’s head. “May I help a bit?”

“Of course,” Elinor said again. 

Una took up a needle and sat down next to her daughter. Elinor watched her studying the tapestry, carefully measuring each angle and line with her eyes before she threaded the needle and started to work.

You couldn’t hear the noise that a needle made unless you were very still, and listened very closely. The moments that Elinor loved best were the ones quiet enough that she could hear that sound, especially when her rhythm matched her mother’s.

After a few moments, Una spoke again. “Lord Fergus is coming to visit.”

“Young Lord Fergus?” Elinor’s nose wrinkled. “He’s so loud! What can he want here?”

“He’s gotten Dingwall and MacGuffin to listen to him.”

Elinor stopped short. “What?” That information was new, and it made Lord Fergus worthy of more attention than a nose-wrinkle.

Una smiled gently. “He has. I’m not sure how, but he has.”

“But if he’s done that, then that means he can secure the eastern frontier and have enough warriors to raise the siege!” Elinor’s mind whirred through the implications, fast as a shuttle slipping between threads on a loom. “That means that he’ll be able to win the war.” 

“Yes,” Una agreed. She said nothing more; she just let her daughter’s mind work as swiftly as she knew it would.

“So he’s come to speak to us now,” Elinor continued. “Which means that he’s uniting all of the clans, and that he’ll need more than oaths to secure his alliances.” Then she stopped, as the final piece fell into place. “Catriona united the clans too?” Elinor looked up at her mother, eyes widening in sudden realization of what that little word implied.

“Yes, love. She did.” Una’s eyes were very soft, and a little sad, and a little proud. “Dingwall. MacGuffin. And Mackintosh,” she finished, with gentle emphasis on the name of the clan that she had married into.

More than oaths to secure alliances. More than oaths to unite the clans. The only clan chief with a daughter to marry the young warleader was…Mackintosh.

Was Elinor.

“If he unites the clans, and wins the war, then…” Elinor couldn’t finish.

So her mother finished for her. “Then he will be the king.”

If Fergus were king, and Elinor married him, then…Elinor couldn’t speak that word, either. Instead, she said, “And there will be peace.” The word tasted sweet as she spoke it, like the first summer berries after a long winter.

The winter wasn’t over yet. Was it going to be Elinor’s duty to make sure that the snow melted and the sun came back?

“Nothing has been decided,” Una murmured. “We just want you to talk to him. Get to know him.

But Elinor knew better. She knew what it meant to be the only daughter of one of the clan chiefs: she couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t know what it meant. She would have to marry well; she would have become a great lady. She would have to host feasts, keep a household, work diplomacy with other great lords and ladies. She would have to give speeches, and be the example that everyone else looked up to.

She would have to make peace.

She would have to be a queen.

“I know this is not what you want, love.” Una put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, soft and soothing. “I know you would be happier if you could stay here and make beautiful tapestries and beautiful music. But it is our place to make peace, too. If you do not marry Fergus, then you will marry some other lord or chief. Or king,” she added, saying the word once more to make it real. “You know what you need to do. I’ve seen how well you’ve learned and listened.”

Elinor did. “But…how?” she whispered. “How do you do it?” It was such a huge question that Elinor knew her mother would never be able to answer, and she struggled to think of a way to make it smaller. “How do you talk when everyone is looking at you?”

Una put down her needle. “You believe what you say.” Her dark eyes sought her daughter’s, and held them steadily. “You know what the truth is, and you believe it, and you speak it.”

“But you don’t!” Elinor protested. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to close out the world. “I mean, you have to say things you don’t believe. You have to flatter and hide and – and all of it! How do you do that?”

When Elinor dared to open her eyes again, her mother’s smile still hadn’t wavered, and Una’s eyes were there to meet hers again. “You believe in something more. In peace, in your family, in whatever it is that’s making you shape your words in the way that you must. And if you don’t believe in what’s making you shape your words, then perhaps that isn’t what you should be saying after all.”

Believe in peace. Yes, Elinor could believe in that. The way Queen Catriona had done, using her words to unite the clans and strengthen the land. Elinor could believe in the land, too: that it was stronger when the clans stood together. She could believe in the possibility of her parents smiling again, and of everyone in the land being safe.

“I’ll meet him,” Elinor said, quiet and steady. “I’ll speak to him.”

Una put her arm around Elinor. “My brave girl.” Her voice had the faintest quaver in it, full of pride and pain alike. “Come with me. I’ll be beside you all the way.”

Elinor put down her needle and turned away from her tapestry, and went forward to weave peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for your lovely prompt! I hope I've done it justice.
> 
> “Peaceweaver” is an Old English term, used to refer to a woman who takes on a political marriage to make peace between two warring groups.
> 
> I read a review (by whom, I can’t remember) that speculated that Elinor was from Clan Mackintosh, because she was tall and slender and dark, like the leaders. I like that idea, so I ran with it.


End file.
